Goliath GroKhash: The Empire's Greatest Mistake
by juiceelsavior
Summary: Jumping P.O.V. style story. Goliath Gro-Khash is an Imperial spy that has been working his cover too long. His time has come and his greatness is soon to be rewarded; there is always a catch in the land of Skyrim however. Sometimes the World is just more important than the blood in your veins and thy name on the wall... The Wheel is beginning to turn on the Last Dragonborn


**The Empire's Greatest Mistake: Goliath Gro-Khash**

_**Chapter 1: Goliath Gro-Khash**_

I don't know if the Stormcloaks have me figured out or not. I know damn sure and well that my Empire brethren don't. We got sacked trying to cross the border out of Skyrim. It was all according to plan... or so I thought. I'm not supposed to be here, wherever here is right now.

"Hey, Orc... wake-up!"

It was Ralof's dumb higher mountain dialect...

"You took a damn beating, but Jarl Ulfric still breathes because of you, Talos bless you before our demise Orsimer. I never thought..."

He is still talking, but I honestly can't believe this. The plan was for Ulfric to be intercepted at the border near Falkreath. I have been undercover for the Empire for nearly three years for this moment. I joined the Stormcloaks with my two brothers. Rose up in the ranks to order men to their deaths on the battlefield. Even staged a faux assassination so I could save the day at the right time.

It all worked. Ulfric was so impressed with my "cunning" that he demanded his pet idiot Galmar Stone-Fist to place me on his honor guard. My contact clearly didn't tip off the Empire about my position. No matter... I don't need to worry. Someone should surely recognize me if we are headed where I think we are.

"... its a shame really Orc. You and I havnt gotten to know each other better."

If he only knew...

"Ralof, leave Gro-Khash alone. Clearly he is doing what you should be doing..."

"Jarl?"

"Figuring out how Talos will guide us out of the gallows without losing our heads."

Ulfric looks me in the eyes and winks. I dont know if the fool is serious enough to honestly think I could save our hides. Considering mine even needed saved. His regal clothes now tattered and torn. The dirt on his face adds great detail to scar he has on his face. Nevertheless, he is still just as impressive as a man riding in this carriage as he was sitting on his throne back at the Palace of Kings. It did dawn on me at this moment, however; that I still have these Nords' trust. I suppose they sympathize with an Orc run out of his own province. Those days were before me. I may be an Orc, but Malacath has never been close with me. I never agreed with the banning of Talos worship, but I did agree to an oath when I joined up in the empire.

"What say you Goliath? Helgen nears..."

I skimmed the poorly crafted horse carriage. Looked over the body of man slumped face first in the bed of the carriage. He was trying to steal a horse during the commotion. Poor schmuck, that's what you get when you try to break the law during a Civil War skirmash. Useless.

"KEEP IT DOWN BACK THERE!"

It was the guard steering the carriage. He wasnt a guard. He was a Legate judging by his armor. Unless the Empire is issuing out hand-me-downs to new recruits. That can only mean one thing. This is the final carriage ride to the actual gallows.

"Ralof, how long have I been out? We seem to be a long ways from Falkreath now."

"Storm Blade Gro-Khash, its been six days since you took that mace to the back of your head. Im sorry you had to spend the rest of these days in slumber. Perhaps it was for the best."

I guess I do need a way out. If it has been nearly a week and my identity hasnt been found out then im doomed as well. Im sure the Empire will chalk this up as me finishing my job. If they even know its me. This all has to be a mistake, but I won't die for someone. Working for the Empire was a job that came natural to me. Killing is what I do best, and it would be one Sheogorathean Shame if I had to stop that. Empire or Stormcloak, no matter... my best option is the one that keeps me breathing.

These woods are all too familiar here. I used to bring men to the gallows in Helgen. The tops of houses over the walls surrounding the city can be seen. The smell of firewood and grilled leaks (a Helgen delicacy) are in the air. I used to love my trips to Helgen. I dont think I ever understood the term irony until now.

"Alright listen to me..."

_**Chapter 2: Stormcloak Ralof**_

Gro-Khash had a plan, it was almost like hearing my mother tell me that everything was going to be okay. When this green bastard works, he really works and I, for one, and damn glad he is on our side in this wretched Civil War. Im not expecting to escape however, but I know a daring rescue and breakout attempt for the "Rightful Heir to Skyrim" would surely garauntee a trip to Sovngarde.

No matter though, when he tells me to fight I will fight. I should be taking this time to think about Riverwood, Gerdur, and everyone else that will learn of my fate. Maybe I will get a great legendary nickname; like Ralof "The Imperialbane". Im going to give everything I have when Goliath gives me the nod.

"Ralof, are you listening?"

"...he better be..."

My Jarl speaking broke my concentration.

"Ralof!" The orc was speaking to me, "you realize I am counting on you the most. Right?"

"Of course Storm Blade!"

This isn't good. I wasnt listening at all and I have no idea what his plan is. Ulfric is looking at the two of us so proud. I won't ask him to repeat it. We are in Helgen and there is no way we can escape our fates here without aide. Any aide that would have come after us would have to know where we are and Tullius has done a swell job at keeping all of this hush-hush, I am sure of that.

"Aye Jarl Ulfric and Goliath; I like the idea."

I nodded and began to look at my feet. We are past Helgen's gates now and tuning out the local muster is all I can bare to do. The horse thief is coming to his senses finally, at least I think he is by the way he is jostling around. Poor fellow, he just wanted to escape his indentured servivtude from Clan Battle-Born's farm. Lokir and I got close during our confinement at that shack in the woods. Alot of the Empire's authenticators were there, looking Ulfric up and down; inside and out. To ensure they had their prey one would assume.

"Get ready Ralof" it was the Orc again, "first im going over the wall and then you're going to boost the Jarl to me, one shot at this and I need you focused if your Jarl is going to make it out of here alive."

That's the plan then eh? A daring escape fresh out of the carriage by the gallows. Surrounded by dozens of Imperial sharpshooters and their best guards. A harrowing scene of bravery and fortitude. One incredible death for a lowly Nord in Stormcloak armor. A Nord named Ralof who wants his family to be proud.

"Grinning now are we Ralof? Don't kill too many of the poor bastards on your way to Sovngarde... they don't deserve to die at your hands."

Reassurance from my Jarl! The same man that marched into Solitude and defeated the High King in an honorable duel. The same man that rescued Markarth from those Hargraven porkin' Forsworn! The same man that will, after I save him and Goliath Gro-Khash, that will unify these lands and protect my name and my family.

"I'm not dying today Jarl Ulfric" I whispered; needn't matter if he hears it or not, "I'm becoming a hero today!"

_**Chapter 3: Goliath and His Luck**_

"I havnt got all day!"

Fool, I only need another minute or so to get these bounds removed with the lockpick I found during the confusion with the horse thief. I can't help but be apathetic for the Nords' eagerness to die in battle. Dying in battle is glorious yes, but that's not the object...

... ! ...

I dropped the damn lockpick...

"Even in death..."

I guess it doesn't matter. I will end up dying here because of The Empire. Everything leading up to this.

"Get over here Orc, The Nine be with you."

Religion, a little late to be thinking that now. The smell of the executioner's blood stained axe, the dryness in the air, and it almost seems as though the wind has stopped altogether; something is trying to speak to me. Maybe if I just close my eyes...

"WHAT IS THAT?"

They weren't closed for long.

"Dragon! Everyone, get to safety!"

Faster than we were shoved off of the carriage and paraded around town, everyone scattered. Someone said dragon, children are screaming, men are running for their lives, and I have my moment...

"Quickly Gro-Khash!"

Ralof, still alive and still with me. What a fool. He probably thinks this all part of the plan. No matter, time to play this off and stay alive another day. That was the end-game for today afterall, staying alive. Ralof quickly untied my wraps and we took off towards the watchtower behind the execution display.

"Jarl Ulfric! The legends... are they true?"

Ulfric was still alive. Hopefully I can nab him for myself after we get the Oblivion out of here. First things first however, I have to get him to safety.

"Do legends burn down villages?"

Badass. Maybe I can work for this guy. I need to quit thinking about anything but the beast outside of this watchtower. The screams are getting louder.

"Up the stairs!"

Not thinking twice, we all went up the stairs of the watchtower. Freedom surely wasn't through the doors we entered. All I heard, as we were charging up the stairs like a mindless mammoth herd without a giant, was the shrill of the monster outside. I barely got a look at it, but I saw wings and fire. Its enough for anyone to think dragon. The only thing with these screams from the beast that really scare, yes even I, is the fact that it sounds like its communicating, and its very angry.

"NO! Jarl Ulfric stand back!"

A lone Stormcloak stands for his Jarl, a cloud of fire envelopes him. It happened so fast that I didn't even see the watchtower give away to the dragon's force. This man is no longer a stormcloak, this man is nothing more than a memory. Welcome to Sovngarde he thinks.

"Ulfric follow me!" I snarled, tired of these Nords and their incompetance. Too many of these tall blonde and mindless men have thrown themselves on the line for this one man. None of them are getting the job done either. Goliath Gro-Khash always gets the job done; no matter the cost.

I lept through the watch tower into a burning house. Running through the top of the shack I quickly realized that I lost him. Or he lost me. Ulfric, nor any Stormcloak were around. It was just me in this burning house. A stuffed goat lies burning in the room I stopped in. Without hesitating this Orc swallowed his doubts and pushed through the remainder of the houses that were on fire. Sheer logic, the dragon didnt need to burn something twice.

"Still alive prisoner!" An Imperial officer, maybe I'm in luck. Or maybe he might take a shot at me right now. I was supposed to die literally seconds before at the Empire's hands no less. I waved back to him out of regret. I had his full and undivided attention while the dragon, clear as day now, was behind him. Much like the brave stormcloak from the watchtower, this Imperial was nothing but a mere shadow of his former self.

Giant, black, glowing eyes. The beast peered right into my soul it seemed.

"DOVAHKIIN!"

_**Chapter 4: Ralof to the Rescue**_

Hadvar was a great man, stupid for joining the Empire, but he always donated heavy septims back home in Riverwood. Something I was never able to do. Being a Stormcloak doesn't pay well, but we aren't fighting for wage, we are fighting for our kinsmen. Even those foolish enough to raise blade against the true High King of Skyrim. Apparently Hadvar was even dumber than I thought

"Ralof...come..." he choked out.

Hadvar was dying. At some point, outside in all of this chaos, he tried to stand up to that thing, that dragon. Now he is nothing but a charred mess of meat and bone. His biceps are still larger than anyone could ever challenge. The arm wrestling contests this man used to win.

"Ralof... Gerdur... Camilla... safe" his eyes now meeting mine.

Amazing. The Stormcloaks really missed a great opportunity with the spirit that Hadvar could have given us. He is still naming off people from Riverwood. Kneeling next to him on the flame plumed surface of this courtyard I realized what just happened. Hadvar is dying with Riverwood in his heart. He wants to see these people once again. Alvor is a relative of his and always has an extra bed open.

"Hadvar, if you can keep breathing I will be right back!"

"...Ray...loft..."

Not good, he is slipping. All of the carnage is on the other side of town now. Jarl Ulfric disappeared and I thought I saw Gro-Khash between some houses over here. I quit heading towards that way because the Death from the Sky was following suit. Peering around town I cant see anything but bodies, fires, and carnage. One dragon truly leveled this once great town in a matter of minutes.

"...!..."

The gate to the city is standing wide open!

"C'mon Hadvar," I knelt back to him again and took a giant breath. "The Civil War can wait, we have to make sure our families are safe."

I lifted his motionless body over one shoulder and just started to run. Riverwood is too close to Helgen and if I am going to die today then everyone will at least know what it is for. Ulfric more than just fine and if Sithis wishes, he can take whoever he wants; whenever he wants. Clearly someone wants me to live through this day. Might as well continue to push my luck.

"Talos... guide you..."

It was Hadvar again, he isn't dead yet. Maybe I can get him to help if I keep a steady jog through the woods and past Embershard Mine. I wonder if any bandits have settled in close to home again... that was the last time Hadvar and I had been on the same side of a blade. Faendal was propositioned by Gerdur to rid the mine of the bandits and the damn elf asked for Hadvar's help after I agreed to go into the mine with him. Hadvar saved my life when we found the bandit chief. Rather he found us... listening to the slaughtering we were putting onto his boys in the mine he laid a waited. As soon as I rounded the corner, after insisting on taking point, I was met with a boot in the chest and an Axe coming down towards my face. Hadvar and his large forearms shoved that battleaxe down the vagrant's throat before I even had a chance to crap myself. He has been condenscending ever since.

"No friend..." I whispered to him "...Talos guide us!"

I spend up pace as soon as I could see the smokestacks coming from the Inn at Riverwood. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, maybe nobody here knows the news. The dragon was headed towards this direction, but I can only imagine that it wouldn't take but an adept level spell charge to fly from Riften to Solitude with the wingspan that beast had. The devil himself is flying above Skyrim and I lived to tell about, past the city gates now all I can do is scream...

"ALVOR! GERDUR! CAMILLA!"

The whole village came after us. I can still feel Hadvar's breath on my back. He is still alive. My village still stands. Im still alive. Now if I can only hear of Jarl Ulfric's safe tidings I can say that this day is complete. Even Faendal is here, everyone is here. Stormcloak soldier on his feet, with an incinerated Imperial Soldier at his side. If Hadvar can't wake up then I am going to have alot of explaining to do...

_**Chapter 5: Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda**_

Luck guided me to the Standing Stones near Helgen after I managed to sneak through the dungeon and a cave that a wounded bear decided to call home. I gave him the death he hid from when he didn't allow me to pass. An orc warrior running through the tunnels away from a fight; nothing more than the cave bear that breathes no more. It wasn't so much as the dragon being frightening as the strange familiarity that surrounded me when the dragon looked at me. It felt like it looked right through me, condenscending almost. I have learnt in my time during The Great War that messing with an air of confidence is a quick way of losing flesh.

I glided my hands over the grooves in the Warrior Stone and counted my blessings. As if Talos himself heard my thanks, the facets over the stone began to pulse with a light that I hadn't seen since I first left my settlement. The same light that every hopeful adventurer sees when they pledge themselves to either upholding the ways of the Warrior, Mage, or Thief. I don't look down on the Mages or Thieves running around. Only pity.

One thief I pity very much so right now is that bald headed snake Delvin from the Thieves' Guild here in Skyrim. He was supposed to be my informant, the one that should have let the Imperial forces know that their errand boy was still alive and well; finishing his job. I can't show myself in Solitude right now, and I sure as Oblivion can't return to Windhelm either. With Ulfric still breathing, and him possibly learning of my identity I literally have no where to go. The moons are receding and the daylight will come. The horrors of Helgen will be in everyone's ear this time tomorrow.

Riften, home of the Thieves' Guild, is plenty far from here as well; the dragon was huge, but I honestly give the guard a matter of days before someone takes it down. Delvin won't see me coming if he truly sold me out, and I need to know if I have been compromised. Passing through I noticed a lazy bandit guarding a mine. Embershard the sign read. If my boots weren't too busy keeping me awake on the trek to Whiterun for a carriage I would see if anyone wanted to meet the tip of this Imperial Sword I looted. Feels so good to have to my mitts grinding in one of these.

Rounding the bend past the mine and following the river, I realized that something was not right. The small drifter village of Riverwood seems much more active than usual. Stormcloak garb can be seen from the distance. Maybe Ulfric stopped in Riverwood. Increasing my pace I slowly begin to realize that the man in Stormcloak colors is none other than that tall blonde manchild Ralof. He was with the Jarl the last I saw them at Helgen, but if anyone made it out of there alive they deserve a few stones to throw.

"Goliath? Hurry Orc!" When will he realize that I am going to break his neck one of these days over these slurs? "Goliath surely your words can help!"

My words? Now I see. One Stormcloak without a scratch on him, but the look of fear. One burned up and charred Imperial at his feet. This IS Imperial territory and Ralof is much better with a club than he is his words, Zenithar bless him. I just wonder what story he gave these people. The man is still alive and finding out if Ulfric knows is the most important thing on my mind right now.

"Another man from Helgen eh Ralof?" The man addressing Ralof in regards to me is a Wood Elf, cannibalistic scum. "I suppose you are going to say that this guy can back up everything you just said?"

The Wood Elf, short in stature, had bow drawn on Ralof. The Nord can't eat an arrow like I can.

"What's it to you Wood Elf? This man, myself, and this burning mess could be all that is left outside of Helgen and I don't have time to entertain you or any of these people."

Ralof peered back at me, a little angry it seems. It did get the elf's attention, and bow, on me though.

"Its everything to me. The name is Faendal and since these two louts went and got involved in the Civil War I have been protecting Riverwood and its children. Now I demand some answers; Ralof says he didn't torch this man, that a dragon did. Care to add anything to that?"

"Dragon is a harsh term Wood Elf Faendal" I snorted, my orc blood not letting anyone have the upper word, "whatever it was it made no distinction between Stormcloak or Imperial."

"I see..." I cut Faendal off.

"Man or woman, grown up or child, skeever or house dog. Whatever it was that attacked Helgen caused more than just your standard cliffracer's amount of death. What you see before you is all that made it out."

The Wood Elf's hands were easing in grip. His bow no longer pulled taught. Quite a nice Hunting Bow if you are into that sort of thing. Which I am not. I need to get closer to him. It only started donning on me now that the entire village is outside and around us. A few Imperial bred, dressed nicer than everyone else. I found my friendlies. I hope Ralof has someone else picked out.

"If what you are saying is true," the elf... again. "Then you guys can't stop here. Leave Hadvar of course, but go to the Jarl. He will surely know what to do in the case of a Dragon." The grilled mammoth snout, Hadvar they call him, is stirring.

"I hate to let you down Faendal," good ole' Ralof, "but Goliath and I have been held by the Imperials for the last week; we were caught with Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak and have been in captivity with him. I am staying with my sister tonight to make sure that beast doesn't come here and that's final."

Clearly there is more history here than I know about. The Wood Elf raised his bow on Ralof again, telling him of being imprisoned was stupid, but I don't expect anything less from this giant country boy toy.

"Well you still owe Camilla and her brother some cash there Ralof. You also failed to hear me earlier. Since you and Hadvar have been off and fighting your Civil War in the major Holds I have been fending off bandits, bears, and even Stormcloak soldiers..."

Upon that another man came from the group of villagers and picked up the charred up husk of a man. He sat him down on a work bench at the closest stoop by the village gates and grabbed an Iron Warhammer. One of these days I am going to send Ralof to the Void, it just seems like the only outcome. For now, I need him alive and I need him to vouch for me in Winterhold, after we make the trip to Riften. Delvin needs to be reminded of what his job was. The Thieve's Guild want amnesty from the Empire and that was part of the agreement.

"The debt owed to Lucan and Camilla, Hadvar burned to a crisp, and now some giant Orc backing you up, wearing Stormcloak armor as well? Surely the bounty for two Stormbloats alive will pay off the coin you owe and keep the Sleeping Giant in business."

"Faendal, is it?" The Elf had no idea that I could smell his breath now. The closer I got to him; the further the crowd backed up... aside from man with the Warhammer. "are you sure this is how you, the mini protector of this village, wants to handle this?"

"Back up, back up right now!" The elf was now trembling, didn't take much to escalate his nerve. "Orcs aren't allowed in this Hold!"

That's all it took, this charade of generosity is quickly wearing off. One more step forward and I hear a woman gasp. Its the Imperial lady. She must have saw the bow release right in front of my face. The fool went for my mouth. That's why I always get the last word. Timing the swing down just right, I shattered the arrow and spun around the Wood Elf in swift motion. The hilt of my Imperial Sword slammed into the taller Nord's head and he dropped his Warhammer. Ralof was quick to pick it up and kick the elf onto his rear. Maybe Ralof is good after all.

"My name is Goliath Gro-Khash! I will protect this village for the night. Ralof has a sister here correct?" A quiet blonde came from the crowd. Not stirred, unlike the rest of the town. "Can he stay with you tonight? I will keep watch and retire at sun-up. The two of us will then leave for good around the time we get hungry."

After that display nobody is debating. Good, exactly what we need. A quiet night, a day full of slumber, and a bit of pep in the step always helps. I made eye contact with the Imperial again. She is smiling now. Funny how these women of Skyrim are attracted to Alpha's. Before I put that Elf and ...

"There he is boss!" The voice came from behind, "I told you he was going to Riverwood..."

Turning around I quickly realized that I had already made a mistake today. The same lazy guard from Embershard is leading a group of bandits this way. Something told me I should have taken my Warrior Stone blessings into that mine. Guess its time to earn this nightwatch duty.

"Ralof, get everyone inside!"


End file.
